Irony
by Trixie3
Summary: 2+5; Duo reminisces over his relationship with Wufei after a tragic event


Title: Irony 

Author: Trixie  
Part 1/1  
Rating: R   
Pairings 2+5   
Warnings: Language, Death   
E-mail: goldynangyl@yahoo.com   
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing, I am writing only for entertaining purposes.

You know, it's sorta funny how everything turned out…

            I mean, we were gundam pilots. 

            Fucking gundam pilots.

            We were supposed to be invincible.  

            We had been through every damn conceivable thing that would have either killed or turned any average adult insane.  

And we had come out alive.  

            I'm not going to say we're totally there, but we've managed.  

            It just never occurred to me that we would ever be subjected to mortal death.  To the meager, mundane ways that humans are taken away from what little time we have on this forsaken place we call 'home.'

            It was like we had already been thrown into the flames and we had returned not burnt and dead, but rather, immortal.  We had risen from the fire like the phoenix that never dies.

            But that miserable ideal came to a screeching halt when you were…

            Well, we'll get there soon enough.

            I, Shinigami, had let you slip from my grasp…

            I let you fall when I could've caught you.

            I should have listened.  I should have been more careful.

            Yeah, and if I had been, you would probably be right here telling me that there was no use using 'could have,' 'should have,' and 'if.'

            You would've said that what had happened was meant to happen, and there was no way to prevent it.

            But you're not.

            I never really thought that I would have ever taken anything for granted, given what I had gone through – you know, with Solo and Father Maxwell and Sister Helen.  But I guess I thought wrong in that too.

            I had taken you for granted.

            I always thought you were going to be there, by my side, ranting and raving about this and that.  Sure, it got on my last nerves sometimes, but it was something that I could count on.  Something that I knew would be there whenever I needed it.

            You were one of the only things that I had that I believed would always be there. 

            Always be there for me.

            Yeah, you could call me selfish. I don't care. 'Cause I…

            I needed you.  And I need you now.

            You with your pristine white clothes.  You with your almost arrogant manner – that was really a mask to hide the vulnerable soul within.  And if you had heard me say that, you would've exploded and yelled at me for calling you 'weak.'

            And just to make amends, I'm not.

            You were one of the strongest people I ever met and you still are, even in your state…

            Anyway.

            I never really thought how much you meant to me – how much of you was imbedded within me.  You were the fur coat that kept me warm when the icy winds of reality howled.  And now, I'm shivering in the cold dark, lost and completely terrified.

            It's just…

            Dammit.

            I said I would never cry.  Boys don't cry.

            …

            You remember the day that I came home drunk?

            I sure as hell don't.

            And that's one of the mistakes I made.

            You had come in the next morning, your hair loose and eyes puffy for some reason, and had yelled at me with such vigor that I thought you were surely going to explode.

            And even through the haziness of the hangover, I had seen that you were livid.  Your face was pale and you were shaking.  

            Ha.  You. Shaking.

            That's something to laugh at.  Well, for someone else anyway.

            You had screamed about how I dare go out and get drunk and then drive home in such a state of intoxication.  You accused me of not caring about how my actions could've hurt people.  You said that I didn't care about you.

            That hurt.

            You said other stuff, but that one statement had hit home.  And now…

            But that's history. 

            Can't change that, no matter how I much I wish I could have.

            But like you would say, "Don't brood about what you can't alter, Maxwell."

            Funny that _you_ would say that.

            Yet, that's not what we're talking about, now is it?

            Back to… whatever I was rambling about.

            Yeah… your words had hurt, cut through the damn fog clouding my mind.  I didn't really react 'cause the headache was just too fucking painful to really get my mouth going, so I just sat there listening to you.

            You must've thought that I was ignoring you when you finished.  You just stood there waiting for me to say something, but of course, stupid me didn't have something to say for the first time in my life.

            And then you left.

            You just walked out of the room – our room – and out the door.

            I never knew where you went.

            Never heard from you.

            Nothing.

            I denied that you were gone.

            I denied that you had left me.

            I denied that I needed you.

            And then the final blow came.

            About a year later, I got a call at two in the morning – I still live in our house, you know.

            And I was about to tell whoever had called me off for calling me so fucking early until they said your name.

            That shut me up.

            The person on the line asked if I knew a person by your name.

            And suddenly I knew something was horribly wrong.

            It was like a cold ice cube had suddenly dropped into my stomach and then into the void that was my soul.

            The person – it was an officer – said that you were involved in a car accident, and that this was the address and telephone that they had found in your wallet.  He wanted to know if I was related to you or not, or if I knew anybody that was.

            I had tried to answer, I really did. 

            But I couldn't with all the thoughts flying around my mind.  

            Were you dead?

            Where were you?

            Millions of questions raced about, but the most prominent thought was this:

            I had to get to you.

            I'm not sure what I said, but before I knew it, I was out of the door and driving (my corvette, you had taken the motorcycle) like all hell was chasing me, to the hospital.

            Now that I think about, I think I scared the shit outta the personnel at the hospital when I barged in with nothing but my boxers on and my hair loose around me.  They thought _I_ needed help.

            Of course, I didn't really pay attention to any of that, I was looking for you.

            Never mind that you had been living right under my nose all this time.  Never mind that I never searched for you before. Never mind that I…

            Well, I found you alright.

            And sometimes I wish I didn't.

            You…

            You were…

            The doctor said you were hit by a drunk driver. And the damn idiot had drove off, leaving you behind… no one saw who did it.  

            And you know what scared me the most?

            It could've been me.

            It could've been me out there that night… and it could've been me that hit you.

            The doctor said that you were alive when the police arrived – hell, it was you who called them.

            I don't know how, but you did.

            But you… you …

            You were… dead upon arrival.

            I thought I had heard the doctor wrong.  I couldn't believe what he was saying – and I didn't.

            I just _knew_ you were going to be getting up and complaining about how you didn't like hospitals and stuff. 

            But…

            But you didn't.

            You just lied there… on that white bed… not moving… nothing.

            There was a sheet over you, I couldn't see your face… I thought it was just a joke.

            It wasn't.

            I had the temerity to pull back the cover, to prove to everyone that you weren't… dead.

            And then…

            I saw the truth. Glaring at me with all its worth.

            Your hair was loose, fanned out like a silken sea of ebony.  Your usually lively bronze skin was a ghostly pale color, as if your blood was had seeped out of your body…

            And it had.

            I had pulled the sheet all the way off, revealing the broken body of the dragon that I had lost.

            There was a huge gash down your chest, still crimson with the blood that had flowed from it.  Other wounds were there… burns – the damn idiot must have dragged you too… gods, …

            But the tattered and torn body was not the worse part… the worst thing was your… your face.

            I hadn't looked at it when I pulled away the sheet 'cause if I had, I knew I couldn't deny that you were… gone.

            But when I did… my world fell. It shattered.

            Your once perfect cheeks were raw and torn – I could see bone.

            I couldn't even see your lips anymore… they were nearly torn off.

            But I couldn't stand to look at your eyes.

            They were still open.

            And…

            …

            I don't think I can repeat what I saw.

            I just don't know why no one had closed them.

            I…

            I don't really recall what happened after that.

            I really don't remember much that happened for the next few days really.

            It was like a nightmare – 'cept real this time, and I couldn't wake up.

            I didn't want to believe that you were gone.

            I didn't want to believe that mangled corpse was you.

            I… 

            I didn't want to believe that I never told you I loved you.

            And now it's too late.

            …

            The others came.  They helped me with… with your funeral.

            You know, it really hurts to say that word. 

            I had always dreamed of having a marriage before a funeral.

            But anyway.

            It was a nice little affair, if you could call funerals nice.

            But I really wasn't there.

            I just sorta went on automatic.

            I can't even remember what I said in the eulogy I gave you.

            But it's not like it really mattered.

            You're gone.

            Dead.

            But Quat told me that the dead can hear us. That they watch over us.

            That's why I'm here… talking…

            I told Quat if you watch over us, you sure weren't watching over me.

            Why would you?

            I caused your death.

            I… I could have prevented you from going… I…

            And there I go again with the could'ves.

            But if you can hear me, I want to tell you this:

            I'm sorry I really am.  I never meant to hurt you.  I just wish… I just wish you hadn't died.  But most of all, I'm sorry I never told you… I love you.  But… I… I guess it doesn't matter much now, does it?  Look at me… I'm blubbering like… an onna.  

            You probably think I'm a fool.

            And I am.

            I miss you…

            And I'll miss you and need you and want you until we meet again.  I promise I won't take the 'cowards' way out.  I can't.  I need to suffer, it's the only way I can think of repaying you for all the mistakes I've made.

            And you know what, even through all the shit I've put you through, I still hope that you love me too.

            I guess this is good-bye… for now…

            May… may you rest in peace.

            Ai shiteru.

And a single tear rolled down a pale cheek, falling on the marble tombstone of Chang Wufei. 

~owari~


End file.
